BRENDA CULLERTON has a tiny tattoo of an open book on her left ankle. She blogs instead of jogs, shops occasionally, reads compulsively, and is no longer wise beyond her years. She lives and works in New York City. She also writes books:
The Craigslist Murders
Posts I Like

PUT YOUR DIAMONDS IN THE SKY TILL YOU DIE!

"A hilarious, cerebral force-field of a one-woman show!" Laura Jacobs, Vanity Fair columnist
Wildly witty and gritty!” The Irish Echo
"Mesmerizing mastery of Hov’s verses." The List/UK
"Lively, diverting… bitter sweet" The Scotsman
We’ve come a long way, Hov and me! Come see us one last time at IRT Theater@ 730, Oct. 27 and 28! (45 very funny minutes! Still with no cellphone!)
Here’s the link for tkts: 

"Everyone has two lives. The second begins when you realize you only have one." 
Steven Sotloff, American freelance journalist

"Funny, poignant and thought-provoking. It made me laugh, it made me cry, and it made me think. Brilliant."

Hi Brenda - just saw you in Edinburgh (literally 10 mins ago) - I was the Indian girl at the front and to my left was the American lady who laughed a lot ! I thought you were incredible - a true inspiration, no ghost … I will follow you on FB if that’s ok… I often feel like I’m lost in the whirlwind of life and you gave great perspective … Oh and also - I too am obsessed with Jay Z

It’s not the destination, it’s the journey, right? I opened yesterday for the girl I hired to hand out flyers and the lighting person who lost all the fucking cues. So I was in the dark, half the time. Today, it was just me and the lighting person. But she did remember  the cues. So I wasn’t in the dark. Going out with half of Soweto tonight. ASTOUNDING group of performers with just TWO of us in the audience. I am not alone! 

It’s not the destination, it’s the journey, right? I opened yesterday for the girl I hired to hand out flyers and the lighting person who lost all the fucking cues. So I was in the dark, half the time. Today, it was just me and the lighting person. But she did remember  the cues. So I wasn’t in the dark. Going out with half of Soweto tonight. ASTOUNDING group of performers with just TWO of us in the audience. I am not alone! 

Feeling photo shoot fresh
Think I’ll call the paparazzi on myself….
Well… First of all, this is the fucking mountain I have to climb (and probably repel down) just to get to the freakin venue. EVERYDAY! Second, I just checked my sales report. 560 total tickets available and not ONE sold! Which should make for one hell of an opening night!  

Feeling photo shoot fresh

Think I’ll call the paparazzi on myself….

Well… First of all, this is the fucking mountain I have to climb (and probably repel down) just to get to the freakin venue. EVERYDAY! Second, I just checked my sales report. 560 total tickets available and not ONE sold! Which should make for one hell of an opening night!  

Snowpiercer? The Orient Express meets the L train

Richard Linklater’s Boyhood? Growing up with no sense of humor

Thank you, thank you, to the great Hermione Hoby @ The Guardian UK for this. It’s my first TWEET!

Thank you, TNC, for a great interview. Hashtag, hashtag, whatever!

LAST CHANCE! LAST NYC SHOW! Saturday July 19th @ 4: 30

"Wildly witty and gritty." says the Irish Echo.

And if they had called me from The Albanian Echo, I would have happily talked all about being a toddler in Tirana, too! 

MAKE SOME NOISE! It’s JayZ&Me&TheNewYork Times! 

Floor by Jackson Pollack
When it rained out at the beach last week, we visited Jackson Pollack’s house/studio. The grandmaster of abstract action painting was worth $700 when he died in a car crash in 1956. And all I could think of as I walked across the splattered wooden ‘canvas’ was: OMG! Shouldn’t I be tiptoeing? What if it was stolen?  Cut up? Sold? How many millions and millions would it be worth? And what a great heist movie it would make! 

Floor by Jackson Pollack

When it rained out at the beach last week, we visited Jackson Pollack’s house/studio. The grandmaster of abstract action painting was worth $700 when he died in a car crash in 1956. And all I could think of as I walked across the splattered wooden ‘canvas’ was: OMG! Shouldn’t I be tiptoeing? What if it was stolen?  Cut up? Sold? How many millions and millions would it be worth? And what a great heist movie it would make! 

There’s something ominous about the silence surrounding the condition of Ardie Fuqua. Fuqua is the ‘unknown’ comedian who was pulled out of the wreckage of that horrific car crash with Tracy Morgan, two weeks ago. In yet another obscene act of emotional rubbernecking, TMZ saw fit to post footage of Ardie as he lay unconscious on the roadside. (Footage I refuse to look at.)  
For anyone who has ever seen Ardie at the Comedy Cellar, the thought of him, lying still and unconscious for even a moment, is inconceivable. That’s how alive and quick, how electric, he is on stage. HIs job as MC is a hellish one—to loosen up the crowd and make them laugh. This, often before they’ve been served a single drink. The miracle, small as it might seem to all but those who follow him as performers, is that he succeeds. He stalks and skitters across this tiny, claustrophobic space—eyeballing the audience, a grin as big as Eddie Murphy—always in a skinny suit jacket and tight jeans, stylish and full of life. So full of life.  
Two years ago, Fuqua lost his 19-year-old son in a freak basketball accident. The ball hit his son in the chest between heart beats. He died instantly.  The death of a child often turns a parent ancient overnight. Ancient, broken. But at 42-years-old, Ardie appears to be the youngest in the line-up—younger even the twenty and thirty somethings who headline his Thursday night gigs. I can only imagine his grin—the joy— he must have felt on that night he opened for Tracy Morgan in Delaware. All of which, again, makes the thought of him lying still and unconscious only hours later, too devastating to consider.  
What makes Fuqua as a comic so unique, at least to me, is not so much the laughter he inspires but the affection. He is genuinely loved by audiences and comics alike.  So please, consider making a contribution to Ardie Fuqua and his family through the Comedy Cellar’s Go Fund here:
http://www.gofundme.com/aha310  

And think about joining Louis CK, Judd Apatow, and his own 19-year-old daughter and asking TMZ to remove the footage. 
More news here: https://www.facebook.com/brendacullerton

There’s something ominous about the silence surrounding the condition of Ardie Fuqua. Fuqua is the ‘unknown’ comedian who was pulled out of the wreckage of that horrific car crash with Tracy Morgan, two weeks ago. In yet another obscene act of emotional rubbernecking, TMZ saw fit to post footage of Ardie as he lay unconscious on the roadside. (Footage I refuse to look at.)  

For anyone who has ever seen Ardie at the Comedy Cellar, the thought of him, lying still and unconscious for even a moment, is inconceivable. That’s how alive and quick, how electric, he is on stage. HIs job as MC is a hellish one—to loosen up the crowd and make them laugh. This, often before they’ve been served a single drink. The miracle, small as it might seem to all but those who follow him as performers, is that he succeeds. He stalks and skitters across this tiny, claustrophobic space—eyeballing the audience, a grin as big as Eddie Murphy—always in a skinny suit jacket and tight jeans, stylish and full of life. So full of life.  

Two years ago, Fuqua lost his 19-year-old son in a freak basketball accident. The ball hit his son in the chest between heart beats. He died instantly.  The death of a child often turns a parent ancient overnight. Ancient, broken. But at 42-years-old, Ardie appears to be the youngest in the line-up—younger even the twenty and thirty somethings who headline his Thursday night gigs. I can only imagine his grin—the joy— he must have felt on that night he opened for Tracy Morgan in Delaware. All of which, again, makes the thought of him lying still and unconscious only hours later, too devastating to consider.  

What makes Fuqua as a comic so unique, at least to me, is not so much the laughter he inspires but the affection. He is genuinely loved by audiences and comics alike.  So please, consider making a contribution to Ardie Fuqua and his family through the Comedy Cellar’s Go Fund here:

http://www.gofundme.com/aha310  

And think about joining Louis CK, Judd Apatow, and his own 19-year-old daughter and asking TMZ to remove the footage. 

More news here: https://www.facebook.com/brendacullerton